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THE SIN OF DAVID 



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THE 

SIN OF DAVID 



BY 
STEPHEN PHILLIPS 

AUTHOR OF "ULYSSES," ETC. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 
1904 

All rights reserved 



OCT 18 1904 
'^ooyrfsrht Enirv , 

oCSii a, Vxo. No. 






Copyright, 1904, 
Bv THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1904. 



Nortooot) i3«0S 

J. 8. Cushing & Co. — Berwick Sc Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 



TO 

F. C. 

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 



ACT I 



CHARACTERS 



Sir Hubert Lisle, 



Hubert, 



Colonel Mardyke, 



Cotton, 

Finch, 

Marsh, 

Crablove, 

Iron. 



Joyce, 

A Doctor. 

Ratcliffe, 

Miriam. 

Martha, 



f Commander of the Parliamentary 



forces in the Fenlafid. 



f The child of Lisle and Miriam in 
1 Act III. 



y. 0, 



Of the Parliamentary army, owner 
f Rushland, the headquarters 
of the army. 



Officers of the Parliamentary 
army. 



A lieutenant. 

f Servant of Mardyke ; afterward 
1 of Lisle. 

f Wife of Mardyke ; afterward of 
1 Lisle. 

Sister of Mardyke. 
Officers, Nurses, Soldiers, etc. 



The period of the play is that of the English Civil War between 
Charles I and the Parliament. 



THE 
SIN OF DAVID 

ACT I 

Time. — Summer of 1643, the first year of 
the war: noontide. 

Scene. — Hall of Rnshland House^ the head- 
quarters of the Puritan army in the Fen- 
lands. On the left a flight of steps leading 
up to a turret-chamber. A door on either 
side^ on the right communicating outward^ 
on the left inward. At the backy a door 
flanked by recessed windows opens on a 

terrace beyond^ with foliage of poplars and 
9 



lo THE SIN OF DA VID 

alders^ and a distant view of the Fens. 
Various military officers are standi?ig in 
silence^ zvith bowed lieads and folded hands^ 
as in prayer^ a7'oimd a table covered zvith 
papers. Mardyke statids at the head of 
the table. 

Mardyke. \^After a pause.'] Now, sirs, 
that we have sought the Lord in prayer, 

Each one in silence, will we hear and 
judge. 

Knowing ourselves His mortal instruments. 

All we with clean hearts unto judgment 
come; 

Yet in Thy sight no human heart is clean ; 

And if we punish others, we ourselves 



THE SIN OF DAVID li 

Are ready to abide Thy punishment. 

\They slowly seat themselves. 
Read, Captain ! Who is charged with 

mutiny, 
With plunder or with harryings or with 

flame, 
Making God's army of the Fenland mocked, 
A hissing and abomination, yea, 
A laughter sweet unto the Philistine, 
And all our fire, our kindling, and our zeal. 
As ashes fallen, and as the greyness of 

ashes ? 
Read! 
Cotton. \Rising with papers in his hand.'] 

There is nothing here of mutiny. 
Nor here is any charged with drunken rage, 



12 THE SIN OF DA VID 

With plunder or with harryings or with 

flame, 
To make God's army of the Fenland 

mocked. 
But one among us is of carnal crime 
Loudly accused: 'tis charged against him 

here 
That he by violence hath a maid undone. 

\Mtirmurs, 
His name Lieutenant Joyce : who on this 

cry 
Arrested and close-guarded waits without. 
Finch. Is this already public in men's 

mouths, 
So noised we cannot overpass it, sir.? 
If not, 'twere well to mingle policy 



THE SIN OF DA VID 13 

With zeal, and hush it for the larger good. 
Marsh. Publish it not, lest we be pointed 

at. 
Such is our cause a little smirch undoes 

it, 
By its own virtue the more vulnerable : 
Greatness hath often by a whisper crashed. 
Cotton. The thing is public and the 

wayside talk; 
The clucking housewife hath it, and the 

crone 
Mumbles it sitting half-out in the sun. 
Mardyke. Public or no, I palter not 

with heaven. 
The sin is sinned ; and if we punish not, 
Then stand we here partakers of the sin. 



14 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Crablove. Doth Joyce deny this? Let 
us hear him speak. 
[Mardyke motions to brijig in Joyce. 
Cotton. Freely he hath confessed and 
bides the issue. 

Enter Joyce, guarded 
Mardyke. Lieutenant, publicly you stand 
accused 
Of a young maid's enforcement: what say 

you 
In answer } 
Joyce. I make answer, " It is true." 

Mardyke. None here can come be- 
tween thee and thy God. 
Yet in mid-madness didst thou not recall 
That thou wert more than Joyce : an officer 



THE SIN OF DA VI D 15 

In this our righteous warring; that you 

brought 
This holy host into derision? Speak. 

Joyce. Her face was close to me, and 

dimmed the world. 
Yet have I fought, and in the front of all. 
Shall one mad moment all those hours 

outweigh } 
Who being human is for ever sure? 

Mardyke. \Rising.'\ God needs not thy 

polluted arm henceforth. 
He asks not Captain, no, nor man-at-arms 
Of heart unclean : thou shalt not fight for 

Him. 
Take him away ! thy punishment with us. 
\_Exit Joyce, guarded. 



i6 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Now, sirs, he hath confessed, his sentence 
lies 

With us. 

Finch. You, sir, who fought with Eng- 
lish Vere 

At Heidelberg, at Mannheim and Ostend, 

Where'er the persecuted faithful fell. 

Whose fame still clings about the vines of 
France, 

How dealt ye in those camps with carnal 
crime ? 
Mardyke. Our cause, as now, required 
our spotlessness. 

And we on grave occasion visited 

Such sin with death ! 

Enter Ratcltffe, with letter 



THE SIN OF DAVID 17 

Ratcliffe. a letter, sir, post-haste. 

Mardyke. \^After glancing at letter.'] 

Summon your mistress and my sister 

here. 

\_Exit Ratcliffe. 

This letter, sirs, concerns us all — I'll 
read. 
" I, Sir Hubert Lisle, being appointed by 
the Parliament to the command of their 
levies in the Fenland, where, as I hear, 
there is much need of enkindling, do pro- 
pose, by your leave, to make Rushland 
House my headquarters. I know that your 
zeal will not refuse me this if it be any 
way possible; but I pray you excuse me 
to your lady for so sudden demand on her 



1 8 THE SIN OF DAVID 

kindness. I follow hard on this letter, and 
am minded to stir up such a fire in this 
region as shall not easily be put out. 

" Hubert Lisle." 
\_Animated munmi^'s. 
Sirs, with my wife I must have speech 

forthwith, 
And make such preparation as I may. 

\TJie officers retire in eager dis- 
cussion on to the terrace at back, 
and from time to time they are 
visible conversing together during 
the scene which follows. Mean- 
while Miriam and Martha 
e7tte7'. Miriam stands submis- 
sively before Mardyke, wJlo, hitent 



THE SIN OF DAVID 19 

on letter, does not observe her for 
a moment. 
Mistress, you must prepare, and instantly. 
For entertainment of Sir Hubert Lisle, 
Sent hither to command our Fenland host. 
Learn then what manner of man is he who 

comes ; 
One sprung to arms from England's 

chivalry. 
Despising lure of courtier or of priest. 
To fight the fight of freedom and of God : 
In foreign battle nursed, yet not as we, 
Stricken and bowed, but in his flush of 

strength ; 
Quickly provide, then ! Stand thou by his 

chair 



20 THE SIN OF DAVID 

And bring with thine own hands the cup 

of welcome : 
See he lack nought thou canst bestow. 

But hither! \^She ticrns to go. 

Miriam ! heed well that you displease him not 
By silly gaud on bosom or in hair, 
Lest he account thee light, a daughter of 

Gath. 
I'll strip this chain from thee; these 

wanton beads, 
Meshes of Satan, grind I into dust. 

\^Hc snatches chain roughly from her 
and tramples it tinder foot. 
You, Martha, with a graver thought assist 
My wife. Receive this guest as from the 

Lord ! {Exit Mardyke. 



THE SIN OF DAVID 21 

Miriam. \Trembling.'\ Am I not as that 
chain, trod underfoot, 
Chidden and checked even more than when 
a child? 
Martha. My brother sternly broods, but 

loves you still. 
Miriam. Why, Martha, why could I not 
ever stay 
His daughter } So my dying father left me, 
When side by side they fought at La 

Rochelle ; 
And as his daughter grew I up submiss ; 
Why must he then make me his wife ? 

Martha. Perchance 

To shelter you, and comfort his grey 
heart. 



22 THE SIN OF DAVID 

Miriam. I am no wife to him ; and the 

naked woman 
Within me cries against the yoke and 

loathes it. 
Martha. Why to so loathed a marriage 

did you yield } 
Miriam. How could my orphanhood 

withstand his will ? 
Did I not owe him all, refuge and bread, 
And sheltering sustenance t Could I take 

all, 
And then refuse that petty price " myself," 
Sole price which he who gave so much 

required .'* 
Well I have paid to the full ! He starves 

my soul, 



THE SIN OF DA VID 23 

He locks my spirit up and keeps the 
key. 

Martha. Say not there is some other — 

Miriam. No one. No. 
My misery is faithful to him. 

Martha. Child, 

What is't you sigh for, whither would 

you fly } 
I cannot understand. 

Miriam. Nor I myself; 

And 'tis the very blindness of this beating 
That makes of me a creature so unhappy, 
And unto thee a plague. 

Martha. Never, my child. 

Miriam. O thou dear Martha, living 
without sin, 



24 THE SIN OF DA VI D 

And reputably rusting to the grave, 

Thou vacant house moated about by 

peace, 
Thou shadow perfect, and thou blameless 

ghost, 
I cannot feed my soul on " Thou shalt 

not." 
I'll fight 'gainst numbness, wrestle against 

rust. 
There's the arch-foe of women ! this doth 

kill us. 
Not pain, nor secret arrow of the mid- 
night 
That quivers till the bird-song, ended 

faith, 
Mortal surprise of marriage, nor the dawn 



THE SIN OF DAVID 25 

Of golden-vista'd children clouded quite, 
Nor fallen loneliness where love hath been. 
These, these are understood, wept o'er and 

sung. 
But worse, oh, worse the folding of the 

hands. 
The human face left by the tide of life. 
The worm already at the human heart. 
Martha. Sooner the worm than guilt 

within the heart. 
Miriam. No ! I would rather drench my 

soul in sin 
So I might feel this fire and grip this 

glory, 
The colour and the bloom and the music 

of life ! 



26 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Martha. Miriam ! no more I'll listen to 
you. Know 
That He who gave us life ordained us 
law. 
Miriam. Law ! And is law then but to 
bind and free ye } 
By law the lightning spurts, and the earth 

quakes, 
And the spring surges thro' a million buds ; 
And law is filled with rushings and with 
thunder. 
Martha. You must endure. Thy an- 
cestors and mine 
Went for their faith to torment and to fire. 
Miriam. Ah, for their faith ! I hope 
my blood is theirs, 



THE SIN OF DA VID 27 

And I would splash the flames about my 

head 
Gladly as m a bath for splendid death, 
But for this life no life I was not born. 
Martha. When there shall come a 

child — 
Miriam. Ah, speak it not ! 

A child of him ! I sicken, I quake at it ; 
My very flesh doth shiver. Think you I 
Could squander upon any child of him 
The brooding balm and wistful riches, all 
The holy longing that on summer evens 
Arises homeless in my silent heart } 
Babes that we love, we must have loved 

ere birth. 

[Ratcliffe enters behind and beckons to 



28 THE SIN OF DA VID 

the officers outside. As Jie passes 
Miriam, he picks tip chain and 
gives it her. She gives Jmn her 
handj which he kisses. She smiles 
sadly on him. He goes ont. 

Martha. See, they return. Come, then. 

Give me the keys ! 
Miriam. Ah ! might this tumult find at 

last a goal ! 

\^Exe2nit Martha aiid Miriam. 

Reenter slowly military officers, wJio seat 
themselves at the table. Lastly enter 
Mardyke. He sits at the head 

Mardyke. Do Thou, O Lord, direct a- 
right our minds, 



THE SIN OF DA VID 29 

And our decision be unto Thy glory ! 
Your judgment, sirs, upon Lieutenant Joyce! 
Shall we but cast him from us as unclean ? 
Or shall we punish carnal crime with death ? 
Finch. Purge we our army of the sin- 
ner ; yet 
See we deter not by too fierce a doom 
Others that waver still from taking sword. 
Iron. If outrage be not punished the 
whole land 
Rising in wrath against us will take sword. 
Cotton. My voice also for death; when 
war begins, 
Mercy at first is cruelty at last. 

Marsh. Break him, but leave him lei- 
sure to repent. 



30 THE SIN OF DA VI D 

Crablove. Enough we cast him straight- 
way from among us. , 
Mardyke. For death my voice ; else 
every one of us 
Will into holy battle go unclean. 

Finch. \Rising.'\ The vote is even ! 
Marsh. What shall now decide 1 

\Trnnipet heard. 
Enter Ratcliffe, Jmrricdly 
Ratcliffe. Sir Hubert Lisle, sir, ridden 

furiously. 
Mardyke. \Jiising^ Lisle, our com- 
mander: his the casting vote. 

S^TJiey all rise. 
Finch. On him alone the burden and 
the issue. 



THE SIN OF DAVID 31 

Efiter Lisle, spurred^ and spattered with 
m?id. Mardyke advancing, Lisle takes 
him by the hand, and they stand looking 
at each other for an instant 
Lisle. God save you, sirs, what busi- 
ness of the camp 
Presses ; what labour from the Lord awaits 
me? 
Mardyke. \_Motio?iing Lisle to head of 
table. '\ This on the instant then : 
Lieutenant Joyce, 
Of this God's army, charged with carnal 

crime 
In that he hath enforced the innocent 
And brought a young maid into public 
shame. 



32 THE SIN OF DA VID 

This he denies not. Now three voices 

here 
Cry that we purge this holy host of him, 
So satisfied ; and three that he shall die. 
With thee the casting vote. The Lord 
speak through thee. 
Lisle. \^RisingP\ Sirs, in no common 
quarrel are we up, 
Nor to a slight fray have we girded us, 
But are embattled for dear liberty. 
Dear liberty to righteousness affianced, 
That each man on our English soil hence- 
forth 
Shall live his own life out beneath the sun, 
Master of his own conscience, his own 
soul, 



THE SIN OF DA VID 33 

And answerable only to his God: 
For this and no less thing rise we in arms. 
For this the noble hath disdained his ease, 
For this the gentleman forsworn his hearth, 
For this the yeoman left his glebe un- 

ploughed, 
For this doth brother clash with brother, 

friend 
With friend, and father smiteth his own 

son : 
For this have we preferred, rather than 

reap 

A servile tilth, to trample the sown field 

And springing pasture to incarnadine. 

But vain the father's and the brother's 

blood, 
c 



34 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Pasture ensanguined and abandoned hearth, 
And worse than vain our liberty at last, 
If we have builded it with hands defiled. 

\_Miifi}inrs of admiration. 
Therefore I show no mercy on this man. 
Death ! Let him die. 

Mardyke. Bring in Lieutenant Joyce. 

Enter Joyce, guarded 
Lisle. Lieutenant, for the sake of that 
high cause 
For which we are embattled, and which 

thou 
Hast stained, I sentence thee forthwith 
to death. 
Joyce. Death ! 
Lisle. To a soldier 'tis a little thing. 



THE SIN OF DA VI D 35 

Joyce. I do not count death as a little 
thing. 
I cannot go out of the warm sunshine 
Easily; yet I am a gentleman 
And I can die. 

Lisle. Hast anything to say.? 

Joyce. Thou who so lightly dealest death 
to me, 
Be thou then very sure of thine own soul! 
Lisle. I fear not that; and less do I 
fear death. 

[Lisle dismisses Joyce and guards. 
\_Drawi7tg his sword.'] And judge me, Thou 

that sittest in Thy heaven, 
As I have shown no mercy, show me 
none ! 



36 THE SIN OF DAVID 

Deal Thou to me what I have dealt to him. 
Nay, more ; not the mere death that he 

shall die, 
Strike at the heart, the hope, the home 

of me. 
If ever a woman's beauty shall ensnare 
My soul unto such sin as he hath sinned. 
[Miriam Jias entered with wine and 
sta?ids waiting. Lisle, lowering his 
sword^ sees her before him and 
stands motionless. 
Mardyke. Sir Hubert Lisle, my wife ! 
To her I leave you. 
\_Exit Mardyke and others. Miriam 
pours out wine and proffers Lisle 
the cup. 



THE SIN OF DAVID 37 

Lisle. {Taking cup.'] Lady, I thank 
you, and must ask your pardon 
For breaking in on you so suddenly 
And so disordered — I would say — but you, 
You are not of our country ? 

Miriam. No, of France, 

And I was born in the sun's lap — will 

you 
Not rest awhile ? 

{She moves as if to conduct him. 
Lisle. {Hesitating.'] You are then of 
that land 
Where flows the crimson wine that now I 

drink .'' 
Is't not so } 

Miriam. Even so. 



38 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Lisle. \_Holdmg up the wine.'] And in 

such glory- 
Have you fared hither to us over sea. 
Miriam. Will you not rest .? [Again 

moving.'] 
Lisle. \_Goi7tg, then again hesitating.'] I 

thank you. 
Miriam. See — this way. 

Lisle. And you — how long since is it 

that you left 
Your southern vines } 

Miriam. I came here as a child; 

My father died at La Rochelle. 

Lisle. Alas ! 

Miriam. Committing me to Colonel 

Mardyke's care, 



THE SIN OF DAVID 39 

Who was his comrade then. 

Lisle. And who is now 

Your husband } 

Miriam. Yes. Your room, sir, 

eastward lies. 
Lisle. I will come with you — and 
these glimmering fens. 
Do they not pall after the southern glow ? 
Miriam. I am grown used to them. 
Lisle. And yet it seems 

Strange in the drear fenland to light on 
you. 
Miriam. How still the air is : scarcely 
can one breathe. 
A storm approaches — {^Hesitating.'] Will 
this war soon end.? 



40 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Lisle. Not till we triumph — or — 
darker it grows. 
This leads us to the garden ? See how 

still 
That poplar, conscious of some heavy 

fate! 
That breathless alder! Like to guilty 

souls 
Against a coming judgment. 

Miriam. \_Hesitati?tg.'] Is there aught 
Wherein I still can serve you .? 

Lisle. {Coming toivard herJ] No, I 

thank you. 
Miriam. I have made all ready — 

\_Hesitates.'] 
Lisle. Every bird doth cower. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 41 

Miriam. \_Going, but returning^ I have 
laid some books within your room — 
you read 
Much — so they say — I thought — how the 

air faints 
As though beneath some suffocating 
clutch ! 
Lisle. Darker and darker yet — what 
books are dear 
To you } 

Miriam. Old histories. 
Lisle. That mandolin — 

You touch it in the twilight.? 

Miriam. Not with art. 

How the air sighed then ! Nearer comes 
the storm ; 



42 THE SIN OF DAVID 

A moment and ' twill break above our 
heads. 
Lisle. \Coming close to her.~\ Sweet 
after battle must thy music be. 
\_A sudden sotmd of mtisketry heard 
without. 
Miriam. What sound was that.? That 

was no thunder-peal. 
Lisle. Lieutenant Joyce of this God's 
army, shot 
By my command ! 

Miriam. What crime hath he 

committed 
That you take on you God's prerogative 
Of death .? 

Lisle. How can I name it to you ! He 



THE SIN OF DA VID 43 



Hath sinned against a maid. 



Miriam. But such a doom ! 

Lisle. No doom too harsh ! In this 
our virgin cause 
We of that sin must purify us — thus. 

[Lisle bows to Miriam, who goes off 
slowly and tre^nbling. Lisle 
starts to folloiv he}-, biit controls 
himself with effort. He goes 
slowly to back, and as he stands 
looking out, a low ' vmtter of 
thunder is heard. 



ACT II 



ACT II 

Time. — Three weeks later: night. 

Scene. — The same as Act I. Miriam and 
Martha discovei^ed^ Miriam touching man- 
dolin absently. Martha at work on em- 
broidery^ a lamp beside her. 

Miriam. \_Sings.'\ 

I 

Red skies above a level land 

And thoughts of thee; 

Sinking sun on reedy strand, 

And alder tree. 
47 



48 THE SIN OF DAVID 

II 

Only the heron sailing home, 

With heavy flight! 
Ocean afar in silent foam, 
And coming night ! 
Ill 
Dwindling day and drowsing birds, 

O my child ! 
Dimness and returning herds, 
Memory wild. 
Martha. What sorrow of the gloaming 

dost thou sing ? 
Miriam. Of some bereaved woman in 
the Fens. 

\Casthig aside instrimient and coming 
over to Martha. 



THE SIN OF DAVID 49 

O Martha ! 

Martha. Well, child — will you help 
me here ? 
These eyes begin to fail in lamp-light now. 

Miriam. \_Kneeling by her.'] Dear 
Martha ! 

Martha. Ah ! just here I cannot — well, 
Weary of music ? 

Miriam. Let me lay my head 

Here in thy lap as in the olden days 
Then when I was a child. 

Martha. You'd have me idle 

As you are, — there, then ! 

\Taking her face in her haitds. 

Miriam. Was I a bad child, 

Martha .? 



50 THE SIN OF DAVID 

Martha. Ah, no ! but headlong ever and 

rash. 
Miriam. Cruel .? 
Martha. Not with intention. 
Miriam. Ah, but still 

Of others too regardless.? 

Martha. As a child is. 

Miriam. I am so happy; let me hide 

my face 
Here. 

Martha. If so happy, child, why so 

afraid } 
Miriam. No ! not afraid. 
Martha. I am glad that you are happy. 
That shows me you are humbler, that your 

heart 



THE SIN OF DAVID 51 

Is tamed; thence only cometh happiness. 
Miriam. \_Looking up.'] I am not tamed ! 
Martha. Well — more at rest then. 
Miriam. Rest ! 

Martha. Now you are weeping. Who 
shall guess your soul, 
Miriam } So happy now, and now wild 
tears. 
Miriam. You know, you know, I would 
not hurt you, no. 
Nor — him, not willingly — never was cruel. 
Martha. You say you would not hurt 

me nor — 
Miriam. Your brother. 

Martha. Your husband. 
Miriam. No — not willingly — and yet — 



52 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Martha. What would you say? 
- Miriam. Nothing. I know not what. 

\_She agam takes tip mandolin, then 
casts it down, comifig to Martha 
again. 
Martha, dear Martha, why are you not 
kind? 
Martha. Kind ! you to say I am not kind. 
Miriam. O, kind — 
But — but you love me deeply, do you not ? 
Martha. What need to ask ? 
Miriam. Whate'er I didy me, me 

You love ? 

Martha. I fear so; but you will do 
nothing 
I could not also love. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 53 

Miriam. I cannot tell. 

{Then suddenly. '\ Come, give me both your 

hands. I hold you fast — 
You cannot fly — look not on me. I fear, 
I fear to be alone with him — the stranger. 
Within our gates — cast me not from you 

yet! 
Martha. {Rising.'\ If this be true, it 

is a deadly sin ! 
The blackest — to your knees and seek 

your God. 
But I'll not think it, cannot imagine, dream 

it. 
'Tis folly, the fruit of too much idleness. 
But hearken, Miriam! though it be but 

folly, 



54 THE SIN OF DAVID 

It must be plucked from out you, flung 

away, 
Else I will seek my brother out, I am 
His faithful friend — but 'tis unthinkable ! 

Enter Mardyke, hurriedly^ with a letter in 
his ha7id, acco77tpanied by Ratcliffe 

Mardyke. [To Ratcliffe.] Summon 
the council hither, on the instant ! 

{Exit Ratcliffe. 
{Tinning to Miriam.] Idle — still idle! 

and in time of war ! 
A night of peril ! yet the strings are 

heard. 
Mistress, bestir you ! To your household 
tasks, 



THE SLV OF DAVID 55 

And make this dwelling ready for the 

night ! 
And then to bed ! else will I lock you up : 
Pro\-ide you bread to eat, water to drink. 
I'll star\-e this fiend of indolence out of you. 
Martha. Brother, you speak not wisely. 

Mardyke. Ah, do you 

Sustain her ? 

Martha. 'Tis not wise to use her thus; 
I tell you, 'tis not wise; such roughness 

makes 
All women desperate. 

Mardyke. Wisdom from women ! 

Martha. You would not have your way 
with me thus — nor 
Will you with her — your ^ife. 



56 THE SIN OF DA VI D 

Mardyke. Leave us together. 

{Exit Martha. 
That which I spoke, I spoke it not in 

jest. 
I who have warred, and still do war for 

God, 
Will keep a diligent wife, a quiet house, 
Still and severe as fits our sacred cause. 
You hear me ? 

Miriam. Sir, you hurt my wrist — 

forbear. 
Mardyke. Remember ! To your duties 
— then to bed! 

{Exit Miriam. 
Meanwhile the officers enter 
How long, sirs, must we tarry idle here } 



THE SIN OF DA VID 57 

On all sides are we hemmed; where shall 
we strike ? 
Iron. Where is Sir Hubert Lisle ? 
Mardyke. Shut in his room. 

Iron. The peril gathers, yet that vacant 
chair ! 

\_Murmiirs from officers. 
Sirs, I will speak no treason, yet we marvel 
Why thus we are hemmed in idle. I will 

voice 
The general fear; he who should lead us, 
faints. 

\Murmtirs of asse7it. 
Who captains us } One, dazed and dubi- 
ous. 
Sir Hubert Lisle is fallen into a trance. 



58 THE SIN OF DAVID 

What purpose hath he, what direction, 
torn 

This way and that, hither and thither 
blown ? 

Now he commands, anon he counter- 
mands ; 

Now is he hot for battle, now he cools. 

This man, who fell amidst us like a brand. 

And all the night he paces to and fro, 

Murmuring and wrestling as with one 
unseen. 

What curse lies heavy on him, or what 
spell ? 

Now let him wake, or be some other 
chosen. 

\_Murmurs. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 59 

Mardyke. Lift we a prayer that heaven 

restore his mind. 
Iron. Yet, while we pray, is Rupert 
thundering down. 
Enter Lisle, dreamily ^ with roses in his 
dress 
Lisle. Forgive, I pray you, sirs, this 
tardiness. 
Sirs, you all frown on me and stare distrust. 
I have fallen into a lethargy of spirit 
Which even now is passing from me. 

Friends, 
Let me not lose your faith. 

Mardyke. Sir, we but ask 

Some guiding from you, and some certain 
light. 



6o THE SIN OF DA VID 

Darker our fortunes grow, on all sides 

pressed, 
And threatened north and west. Where 
shall we strike ? 
Iron. I say, take water northward and 
relieve 
Fairfax in Hull. 

Mardyke. Or threaten suddenly 

Newark, where now are horsemen swarm- 
ing thick 
Upon our flank. 

Crablove. And, sir, still Willoughby 

In vain beleaguers Castle Bolingbroke. 
Mardyke. Quick flies the night. Shall 
we aid Willoughby } 



Or hurl a force on Newark, or free Hull.-* 



THE SIN OF DA VID 6i 

Lisle. {^Hesitatingly P^ To me it seems 
'twere wiser here to bide, 

\Murnitirs. 
Holding the Whitton and the Welland Hne, 
Breaking the foe with bog and with mo- 
rass ; 
Here let us lie, alert, but not o'er-hot. 
We have much need of discipline severe. 
Patience and quiet rule and still debate, 
Till each man shall attain self-mastery. 
Now leave me, sirs ; for I must meditate. 
And wrestle in spirit lest I be o'ercome. 
\_Exeiint officers^ sullenly shaking their 
heads. 
Mardyke. \Rising.'\ I will go up to 
the turret-room, and mark 



62 THE SIN OF DA VID 

If, in God's book, some chapter or some 

verse 
May give us warning in our present need. 
[Mardyke, unlockmg case^ takes down 
Biblcy and ascends to tower with 
lighted candle. Lisle sits plunged 
in gloomy revery and studying a 
map distractedly. Miriam passes 
across the stage hurriedly, with 
keys at her girdle. Lisle, seeing 
her, conies forward. 
Lisle. Lady, will you not touch the 
strings again? 
With music lift from me this heaviness.^ 
Miriam. I may not, sir. I am accused 
of sloth, 



THE SIN OF DAVID 63 

And must about the business of the house. 
Here are my keys. 

Lisle. {^Seeing her wrist. '\ See, you 

have hurt your wrist. 
Miriam. Tis nothing. 
Lisle. But 'tis bruised as by a blow ! 
Miriam ! — my heart spoke then. This burn- 
ing silence, 
Secret eye lightnings, and deep mutual sighs, 
And darting comprehensions of swift thought. 
Must break in words at last. 

Miriam. \_Trefnbling.'] I will not hear 

them. 
Lisle. Hear them ! and then do with 
me what you will. 
When I spurred hither, all on fire for God, 



64 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Then did I gallop into human flame. 

Cold I had lived, pure, narrow, temperate, 

A girded swordsman pressing to the mark. 

So rode I through that gate. Then sud- 
denly, 

Thy beauty hke a tempest fell on me ; 

And in one moment was I rent and riven. 

Stunned is my life ; I wander, and I grope. 

My voice in the council falters ; in mid-act 

This Hfted arm falls at thy floating face. 

They waver like to mist the ranks of war, 

They waver and fade; he fades, the armed 
man. 

And spurring armies in a vision clash. 

Or would I pray and upward fling my 
hands t 



THE SIN OF DA VID 65 

To thee I pray, thee, thee, with cries be- 
seeching. 

I am lost, lost! 

Miriam. O, I would be to thee 

As gentle as the grass above the dead; 

And have I been but darkness, and a 
sword ? 
Lisle. No! for a revelation breaks 
from thee. 

Thou hast unlocked the loveliness of earth, 

Leading me through thy beauty to all 
beauty. 

Thou hast admitted me to mystery, 

Taught me the different souls of all the 
stars ; 

Through thee have I inherited this air, 



66 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Discovered sudden riches at my feet, 

And now on eyes long blinded flames the 

world. 
Thou shattering storm, thou eve of after 

blue, 
Thou deluge, and thou world from deluge 

risen. 
Thou sudden death, and thou life after 

death ! 

\^A pause while sJie stands trembling. 
You speak not. Give me but a human 

word. 
Miriam. O, all my life has listened for 

thy step ! 
Lisle. How have I walked in glory 

unaware ! 



THE SIN OF DA VID 67 

O, let your dear soul forth; stay it not 
now! 
Miriam. For thee alone came I into 
this world, 

For thee this very hair grew glorious, 

My eyes are of this colour for thy 
sake. 

This moment is a deep inheriting, 

And as the solemn coming to a kingdom. 
Lisle. Apart we two did wander in- 
land ; now 

Listen, the ocean of infinity! 

Life hath no more in it. 

Miriam. \_Lying in his arms."] My final 
peace ! 

- Lisle. Peace ? 



68 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Miriam. Doth the word seem cold ? 

A woman's peace, 
It hath all fire in it, and burneth white. 
Lisle. Peace ! Is there peace while 

all — 
Miriam. Wake me not yet, 
Not for this moment ! 

Lisle. While this dreaming love 

Gives you the language of a child or a 

bird 
Of a light and liquid rapture. 

Miriam. Speak not yet 

Too human and too grave. 

Lisle. Yet every way 

I look is darkness ; for each moment 
war 



THE SIN OF DA VID 69 

May call me off. 

Miriam. Peer not into the dark. 

Lisle. Else will it swallow us. O sud- 
denly 
We two must hew us out a path. 

Miriam. Disturb not 

This hush and church of passion with the 
world ! 
Lisle. How thy speech wantons, while 

I stare at life! 
Miriam. Hush! I am lifted even above 

hope ! 
Lisle. He, he — 

Miriam. Thou hast my spirit, 

be content. 
O, all that in me wanders and is wild 



70 THE SIN OF DA VI D 

Gathers into one wave that breaks on 

thee! 
Lisle. And I must bide, till this full 

beauty drop 
Which even divinity did flush to dream. 
Thou witherest like a virgin at his side. 

\_A sudden trumpet. They start apart. 

Miriam. Hark ! 

Lisle. Tidings from the camp ! 

Miriam. I'll leave you, then. 

\_Sound of hiir7'ied steps. 

Lisle. Some business easily despatched ! 

Miriam. I'll walk 

Here, on the terrace, till you shall decide 
This petty business. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 7 1 

Enter soldier, with letter, accompanied by 
Finch 
Lisle. A brief " Yes " or " No." 

{Exit Miriam. Lisle takes letter and 
reads it silently. 
Ah! 
Finch. You are stricken, sir ; lean on 

this arm. 
Lisle. No ! but stand by ; this matter 
presses. Go ! 

{Exit soldier and Finch. 

{Reading alotid. 

"To Sir Hubert Lisle, Commander: 

" The Castle of Bolingbroke still bays all 
attack. Those whom I have with me are 



72 THE SIN OF DA VID 

too few : the breach I have made too 
sHght. Another day and reUef bursts upon 
us from Newark. 

"There is no way but by sudden on- 
slaught, and that by daybreak. Who then 
shall lead this ? Whom hast thou in the 
army of such desperate valour, that, in 
scorn of life, he will adventure ? For he 
who shall lead such onslaught, may already 
count himself as dead. Yet, on this 
hazard, stand our fortunes in this region. 
Hast thou a man of such fiery zeal that 
others follow him ? Then, send him 
quickly. Let him know what peril awaits 
him ; but yet that on his peril hang our 
hopes. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 73 

" Knowing well thine own spirit, I entreat 
that thou, thyself, shalt not so adventure; 
for thy life is of the worth of many cities. 
Speed ! Speed ! 

" WiLLOUGHBY." 

[Lisle sits down and spreads letter 
before him under lamp. 

And why should I not send — him ? 

He is ripe 
With such experience as none other hath 
In breaches and in onslaughts both in 

France 
And in the foreign fenland; he, I say. 
Of all the host is the one only man. 
The apparent instrument. I do but send 



74 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Him whom the peril asks, by man un- 

blamed. 
With God how stand I ? Vain to palter 

there. 
I'd have the husband dead that I might 

clasp 
The wife secure. If then behind the 

deed 
The mind can murder, and the heart can 

kill; 
Then this mere silent wish, born of the 

brain, 
Might instantly start up a living thing 
And able, without hands, to strike } 
What were I better than the lurking thief, 
Or hired assassin steahng from behind. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 75 

To stab him in the back? Away the 

thought ! 
Let him succumb to the slow hour, or, 

drop 
By sudden death-shot in mid-battle, or 

sink 
In casual fever — I'll not do this thing. 
Rather myself will go; leave pure this 

house, 
And hurl this lured soul upon the breach. 
\He starts to go when Miriam enters 
softly y behind^ from moonlit terrace. 
Miriam. Hast thou despatched ? 
Lisle. Ah, thou t 

Miriam. Hast thou not yet 

Determined } 



76 THE SIN OF DAVID 

Lisle. \_Hcsitating as lie gazes at Jier.^ 
No, not yet ; there's more in this 
Than I had looked for. 

Miriam. [Stretchijig out her arms for letter^ 
May I read it.? Oft, 
A woman's mind is lightning, where men 
grope. 

[Lisle refuses to give letter to her. 
So weighty is it } 

Lisle. Even with life and death. 

Nay, more : who knows } with all eternity. 
Miriam. SjQuickly^ Not perilous to thee } 
Lisle. Perhaps ! Away ! 

Thy moonlight loveliness disturbs me. 

Miriam. Words 

To make me stay ; but, yet, I will not. I 



THE SIN OF DA VID 77 

Am heavy with the treasure thou hast 

given me, 
And I will steal within and spread it out. 
I long to lock me in and be alone 
With these new riches in the dimness. 

Lisle. Ah ! 

Come back. 

Miriam. {Laughing softly. '\ I shall disturb 
thee. 

Lisle. Yet stay on. 
Can you not hear Time rushing past our 

ears, 
With audible, irreparable flight.? 

Miriam. \_Gazing outward and sighing^ 
How e'en the Fenland hath grown fairyland 
And all these levels gleam as passionate 



78 THE SIN OF DAVID 

As the high gardens of Assyrian kings. 
I shall not sleep — I cannot tell thee 
why — 

\Leaning toward him. 
Oh, thou dost know ! Good night ! 

Lisle. Thou shalt not go. 

Thy hair hath slipped, and showers round 

thee. Now, 
I hold thee all dishevelled in the moon ; 
I cannot clasp thy spirit ; thee, I ask, 
Thus in thy glorious body — thee ! 

Miriam. I tremble. 

Lisle. That smile hath made a mist of 

all the world. 
Miriam. {^Starting from him.'] Listen, one 
Cometh on us. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 79 

Lisle. Who ? 

Miriam. Alas ! 

\_Rtishes from him. 
Lisle. {Coming wildly down from ter- 
race into the room, sees the letter and 
snatches it tip. Steps are heard, and 
Mardyke is seen slowly descending the 
stairs. Meanwhile the moon is clouded, 
and a light rain begins to fall.'] Old 
man, within this moment hast thou died. 
Enter Mardyke, with Bible, which he lays 
on table. 
Mardyke. It seemed, a while since, 
that a trumpet blew; 
Still, by the book I sat; but have not 
found 



8o THE SIN OF DAVID 

Chapter or verse that lights our present 

need. 
What tidings from the camp, what sud- 
den word ? 
Lisle. Prepare to spur at once to 

Bolingbroke. 
Mardyke. Now on the instant } 
Lisle. On the instant. Thou 

Art needed there. Grave conference is 

held. 
Thy famed experience in foreign siege 
The general asks. Thee only can I send. 
Mardyke. The moon is quenched ; yet 
lighten Thou this dark. 
Thou great Taskmaster, if unto Thy service 
Me Thou hast called, I go and murmur not. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 8l 

Lisle. Arm thee and quickly ere the 

blinded dawn 
Peer on the drizzling levels. Fast ! 

Away ! 
Mardyke. With joy I go. I thank 

Thee, O my Lord, 
That Thou hast not discarded me as old, 
A cumberer of the ground, a lopped 

branch, 
But Thou hast service still for these grey 

hairs. 
Light though the task, I'll kindle it with 

fire. 
Restore to these old bones and cramped 

limbs 
Speed and the ancient strength of other days 



82 . THE SIN OF DAVID 

Then when I battled and bled at La 

Rochelle. 
Ratcliffe ! at once my armour, and my 

horse. 

{Exit Mardyke. 
Lisle. \Taking pen and writing^ "I 
send you the man fitted for our purpose ; 
of mighty zeal and valour, and one that 
can enkindle others to a hazard. Let 
him, then, lead this assault. He knoweth 
his own peril and wherefore he is sent. 
He himself beareth this letter. He 
bringeth his life in his hand. Send me 
swift news of the assault — and of him." 

[ Voices are heard, and the sound of 
runnijtg to and fro. Reenter 



THE SIN OF DA VID 83 

Mardyke, half-armed, with Rat- 
CLIFFE, who hastily helps him to 
finis J I Ids arming. 
Mardyke. \To Ratcliffe.] Buckle 
me closer there ; and, here, more room. 
Ratcliffe. Thy back lies open here ! 
Mardyke. In such a cause 

I fear no stab in the back ; the front 
is all. 
Lisle. Here is a letter : into Wil- 
loughby's hand 
Deliver it. 

Mardyke. Shall I be long from home? 
Lisle. I think not — till to-morrow at 
sunset. 
Reenter Miriam from the other side 



84 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Miriam. Whither so suddenly, in the 

dead night ? 
Lisle. Your husband summoned to the 

camp, straightway. 
Mardyke. Our officers hold conference ; 
no more, 
My voice is needed ; prattle not — to 

bed! 
Woman hath no concern in this. 

Miriam. But when 

Shall you return } 

Mardyke. To-morrow, by sunset. 

[Lisle goes out on teiracc. Miriam 
watches Mardyke finishing his 
arming. 
My sword, now ! 



THE SIN OF DA VI D 85 

Ejitcr Servant, Jiiirriedly 
Servant. Sir, the horse stands. 

Miriam. \To Mardyke, who goes to the 

doo7'.'] S'lY, good-night! 
Mardyke. There, then — [^Kisses her 
oil foreJieadP^ Such joy have I in 
buckhng me 
Again in armour, all things I forget; 
Suddenly wife and home are gone from 
me. 

[Miriam goes from him to the door. 
Good-night, Sir Hubert. Peace be on this 
house ! 
Lisle. \Coming dowii.'\ Sir, shall I go 
in place of thee } 'Tis not 
Too late ! 



86 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Mardyke. Have I not prayed ? The 
Lord hath chosen. 

\Exit Mardyke with Ratcliffe. 
Lisle goes oiU on terrace — sound 
of hoofs galloping azvay into the 
night. A cold glimmer of dawn 
appears far off. 
Miriam. When doth the conference 

end.^ 
Lisle. To-morrow ! 

Miriam. Then, 

A little while is ours. So cold } But 
now — 
Lisle. A moment, Miriam! I must 
think alone. 
I am sore troubled. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 87 

Miriam. Kiss me — I will go. 

[Lisle makes movement as though to 
embrace Jici% but cannot. 
Am I despised, then, that I could not hide 
What burned in me t I should have fenced 

and fenced 
And so had reverence — you despise me.? 

Lisle. Ah ! 

The starkness of the dawn is at my heart. 
Miriam. O, how I scorn myself — and 
yet — [^Putting her hand on his shoul- 
der and looking in his face.'\ Good- 
night ! 

{Exit Miriam. 
Lisle. I ne'er did love thee so as at 
this moment. 



88 THE SIN OF DAVID 

As he turns, enter Ratcliffe 
Who's there? 

Ratcliffe. I, sir. 
Lisle. Well, well? 

Ratcliffe. The holy Book! 

I come to lock it safe. Each night it is 
My master's custom. Or, I'll leave it thus; 
If haply you would seek in it some verse 
To light our present trouble. 

Lisle. Leave it, then ! 

\_Exit Ratcliffe. A salloiv gleam of 
dawn falls on the Book, as Lisle 
ope7is a7id reads; and the sound 
of galloping hoofs is borne back 
once more on the wijid. 
" And it came to pass in the morning, 



THE SIN OF DAVID 89 

that David wrote a letter to Joab, and 
sent it by the hand of Uriah. And he 
wrote in the letter, saying, Set ye Uriah 
in the forefront of the hottest battle, and 
retire ye from him, that he may be 
smitten, and die. 

"And the men of the city went out 
and fought with Joab : and there fell some 
of the people of the servants of David ; 
and Uriah the Hittite died also." 

\_A faint sound of galloping hoofs is 
again heardy and then ceases. 



ACT III 



ACT III 

Time. — Five years later. 

Scene. — A room iji a house on the out- 

skii'ts of the town of Wakefield. At 

back a window looks out on the open 

country. On its right a door commnni- 

cates with the outer cotirtyard ; on the 

left another opens into the sleeping rooms 

of the house. Lisle discovered, seated, 

with papers before him; on one side 

Ratcliffe, on the other two officers 

i7i attenda7tce. 

93 



94 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Lisle. Old Ratcliffe, ask my wife to 

come to me. 
Stay ! She was hushing up the child to 

sleep, 
Low singing over him ; say will she come 
If he is sleeping now. 

\Exit Ratcliffe. 

Sirs, we have seen 

Three years of seeming peace; yet here I 

hold 
Letters in Fairfax' hand ; he apprehends 
In Kent and Essex disaffection; speaks 
Of imminent trouble. What of Wakefield 

then 
And all this region ; see you any cause 
Here for disquiet ? 



THE SIN OF DA VID 95 

Officer. None, sir, save from bands 

Roaming in indolent undiscipline. 
Hither and thither, plundering purposeless. 
Lisle. No smouldering mischief then .'* 
Officer. None visible. 

Eiiter Miriam with child. Officers retire 
Miriam. Hubert — he will not sleep, 
but must put on 
His sword and strut with it. Ah ! let 
him stay. 
Lisle. Well — well ! thy sword already 
girded on. 
Yet, sir, they tell me that no peril 

threatens. 
\To Miriam.] How straight he stands! 
His colour too not bright 



96 THE SIN OF DA VI D 

Nor dull ; but with a blander glow of 

blood. 
I think that he hath more of me than 
thee. 
Miriam. No, Hubert, no. 
Lisle. His eyes ! Those are my eyes. 
Miriam. Only in colour ! but that way 
they ope 
Wide at the world, that is all mine. 
Lisle. Perhaps. 

Miriam. Then, too, his mouth } 
Lisle. Mine, mine in every curve, 

Miriam. If you had watched him smile 
as close as I 
You would not say that ; all his smile is 
mine. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 97 

I grant that when he frets, his mouth will 

drop 
Like to his father's. 

Lisle. So ! from thee his joy, 

From me his sadness. 

Miriam. Hubert, no ! when he 

Doth sadden, that same dimness o'er him 

comes 
As upon me. 

Lisle. Will you claim all of him ? 

His eyes, his mouth, his sad hour and his 

bright ? 
His hair, now, see that curl behind the 

ear. 
Come, you must yield me that. 

Miriam. O, that perhaps. 

G 



98 THE SIN OF DAVID 

Lisle. Will you not leave me any part 

in him ? 
Miriam. Oh, yes ! his cry when he 

would fight off sleep. 
Lisle. {Laughing^ Well, well, sweet, 
we will quarrel over him 
No longer; he is fair and strong and 

bright. 
How his young face hath mellowed our 

first passion, 
What flamed then is a glow more beautiful. 
Yet is thy love of me not less } 

Miriam. How — less 1 

Lisle. The former fury hath gone out of it, 
The pulsing life, the blinding dance of 
blood. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 99 

Miriam. The child hath brought a 
tremble into it. 

I am grown fearful for the sake of him ; 

I dread the rustle of angels in his room. 
Lisle. And now doth he divide what 
once was mine 

Wholly. 

Miriam. Ah, no ! he hath enriched that 
love. 

Once did it live upon thy look, thy 
voice, 

Thy strength, thy courage, and thy con- 
queror soul. 

This was enough, God knows. But, 
Hubert, now 

We two together to behold our boy, 

LofC. 



lOO THE SIN OF DA VID 

That we have reared and planted sunward, 

grow, 
While all our sighs like breezes come to 

him. 
And all our tears fall down on him like 

rain. 
I thought thou never couldst be more to 

me ; 
But now is added to that rapturous fire 
Much that perhaps of men is not esteemed. 
But to a woman meaneth half her life. 
To hold our sweet night council o'er his 

day. 
To exchange bright understandings silently 
At little words of his ; to bend, we two 
Over him dreaming while thy hand on mine 



THE SIN OF DA VID lOi 

Tightens a moment ; then to watch to- 
gether 
Some little way of thee or me appear 
Sudden in him ; to feel our daily life 
Grow solemn at his voice: to see our 

spirits, 
Close though they met in kiss and 

breathed word, 
Visibly here commingled and made flesh. 
Lisle. Now blows the future sweet into 
our eyes, 
And even peril treadeth upon grass. 
Enter Ratcliffe 
Ratcliffe. a sudden messenger from 
Pomfret ridden ! 

Enter messenger^ hurriedly 



I02 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Messenger. Sir, all the country around 
Pomfret walls 
Is risen up ; the castle is cut off : 
We foraging without, found no return. 
They signal for rehef ; and one even now 
Behind me rideth furiously, I fear 
Bringing worse news. 

Lisle. \To Ratcliffe.] Bid Arlington 
prepare 
With all our horsemen instantly to spur 
To Pomfret; then if he who rides behind 
Bear us worse tidings, I myself will lead. 
\_Exit Ratcliffe with messenger. 
Miriam. \_To child, who falls back on 

her slioulder^ Ah, darling! 
Lisle. How, what ails the child } 



THE SIN OF DAVID 103 

Miriam. There, there, 

Is thy head heavy ? On my bosom then. 
Lisle. Now, Hubert, little Hubert, draw 
thy sword ! 

\Child attempts, hut fails to draw 
sword. 
See thus ! \_Drazutng his own7\ Not even 

a smile I Why he would laugh 
And leap at this an hour since. 

MiRL\M. He is hea\y. 

Hush ! do not speak to him. 

Lisle. \B ending oz'er Jiitn.'] What 
dreams I have 
For thee. 

Miriam. What dost thou dream } 
Lisle. He shall be tall. 



I04 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Miriam. No taller, than thyself. 

Lisle. I'd have him shoot 

Beyond me both in inches and in deeds. 

Miriam. A soldier } 

Lisle. No ! when he shall grow a man 
The land will cry for rest. I see him 

then 
A healer and a closer up of wounds. 
His task shall be to obliterate and soothe; 
To bind, not break ; to mingle, not to mar ; 
His counsel breathing our England balm. 
This labour more than battle asks a man. 

Miriam. It is a noble dream. 

Lisle. And shall come true. 

Or he shall build in new lands over sea 
Some virgin commonwealth. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 105 

Ratcliffe. \_Entermg hastily.'] A horse- 
man, sir, 
Spurred sweating to the gate. 

Lisle. Summon him in ! 

Enter soldier^ breathlessly 
Soldier. From Pomfret, sir, where we 
are hard beset. 
The town may fall each moment, totters 

now; 

And only in the sight of thee is hope. 

Lisle. \To Miriam.] Dear, I must go. 

\To soldier^ Tell Colonel Arlington 

That I myself will lead ; let all stand by. 

Ratcliffe, a breastplate and a helm enough ! 

[Ratcliffe hastily arms him. 

Old man, why do thy fingers fumble thus. 



io6 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Or have thine eyes dimmed suddenly ? 
Apace ! 
Ratcliffe. O, sir, this very night-time, 
five years flown, 
Thus armed I my old master, when he fell 
By Castle Bolingbroke. 

Lisle. This very night? 

Ratcliffe. This night ; when I did 
leave the holy Book 
Unlocked for you to search it. 

Lisle. I remember. 

Ratcliffe. Again the night is here! 
My fingers fumble 
About the straps as then. Pray God this 

night 
May not see dawn like that! 



THE SIN OF DA VID 107 

Lisle. Leave me — enough. 

\Exit Ratcliffe. 
\^Aside.'\ I sent him then ! Now I myself 

must go. 
Miriam. \_To child ^ with whom she is 

walking to and fro.'] Now thou art 

hot, now cold. 
Lisle. Art thou, dead man. 

Urging me down that road where thee I sped.-* 
Miriam. {^Bringing child to Lisle.] 

Hubert, his face ! 
Lisle. \_S2idde7ily ^ gazing on child.] Or, 

or — give me the child. 
Miriam. What's this.? 
Lisle. \To child.] Close, close, your 

arms about my neck. 



io8 THE SIN OF DAVID 

No peril visible or invisible 
Shall touch you so enfolded. 

Miriam. Why so fearful — 

So on a sudden } 

Lisle. Is our son watch'd o'er } 

Guarded each instant? 

Miriam. Hubert ! 

Lisle. Wife, I speak not 

Of common perils, but — of the approach 
Of malice superhuman. Ah ! forgive me. 
There came a little cloud upon my 

brain. 
Take him within ; summon the doctor 

straight. 
He is ever within call. Then send him 
here 



THE SIN OF DA VID 109 

That I may speak with him. 

\_Kissing child and looking after them. 

\_Exit Miriam with child. 

Why on this night 

Doth the child sicken suddenly? Ah, 

folly ! 
Childhood is quickly sick and quickly well. 

\_A pause. 
Or do the dead remember still? Perhaps 
The spirit of the murdered fresh in wrath 
Leaps out upon his murderer, but in vain. 
Baffled by loss of corporal faculty. 
May he not then a spirit vengeance seek, 
A vengeance not of hands, and learn to 

blight 
And cripple ; and perhaps the matin chill 



no THE SIN OF DAVID 

Can use, and all the fatal airs of night, 
And can direct the wandering malady 
Whither he will ? If he then whom I slew 
Is aiming in such vengeance at the child ? 
Wilt thou revenge thee on bright curls 

and cheeks, 
And wilt thou lunge, grey swordsman, at 
a babe? 

Ejiter doctor^ from witJiin 
Now, doctor, now 1 How is't with him ? 

Doctor. He lies 

In some mysterious languor, and my art 
Reaches him not. 

Lisle. Is then the malady 

To human healers new.-* 

Doctor. To me at least. 



THE SIN OF DAVID ill 

Lisle. Is it not written in thy cate- 
gory ? 

Doctor. I cannot reach the seat and 
fount of it. 

Lisle. Stands it not on the list, the 
cause, the cure ? 

Doctor. Show me the cause ; then will 
I find the cure. 

Lisle. What symptom hath he 1 Or 
what certain sign? 

Doctor. No spot hath he, nor fever 
rash ; yet fever. 

Lisle. Doth he cry out.!* or lies he 
silent still.? 

Doctor. He makes no cry, yet strug- 
gles as he lies. 



112 THE SIN OF DAVID 

Lisle. With what doth the child strug- 
gle, how beset? 
Doctor. He seems to fend a some- 
thing from his throat. 
Lisle. [ With a ay.'\ Thou dead man, 
take thy fingers from his throat; 
He is a young thing and a little — ah! 
Back to him, doctor, linger not — yet stay; 
Think you that heaven doth ever intervene 
With special sickness, and for some rank 

fault 
In us, doth strike us there where most we 
love ? 
Doctor. 'Tis our presumption to imag- 
ine it. 
We fancy those regardless-rolling orbs, 



THE SIN OF DAVID 113 

Themselves inhabited, tremendous worlds, 
Night-lights to reassure us in the dark. 
We colour with our trespasses the ecHpse ; 
And hear paternal anger in the storm ; 
Impute to sickness wrath, vengeance to 

death, 
And memory to unrecording Nature. 
Lisle. Perhaps — back to his bed. 
Doctor. What man can do 

I'll do. 

S^Exit doctor. 
Lisle. [ With uplifted hands.'] O, 
Thou that sittest in Thy heavens. 
Mine was the sin ; be mine the punish- 
ment, 
But let him live. End me with lightning, or 

H 



114 THE SIN OF DAVID 

In fever let me burn down to the grave, 
But let him live. Make ashes of my 

life, 
Take from me every hope — but let him 

live! 
Strike here, here, and not otherwhere ! 

Or if 
I may not look for mercy, yet must she, 
Who of that murder goeth innocent. 
Walk with me hand in hand into this 

fire? 
By our two souls that anchor on his life, 
O, wilt Thou smite where all is holiest. 
Smite at the very fount of hope and faith, 
And wring the spirit for the fault of 

flesh ? 



THE SIN OF DAVID 115 

Or if with mine her doom entangled be, 
What hath he done that he must pay the 

price ? 
What crime committed save the being 

born ? 
Then must my sin cancel for him the 

Hght, 
Put out the recent sunbeam, and make 

blank 
The murmurs and the splendours of the 

world ? 

Father, by that hour, when Thou wast 

dimmed 
To human in the clouds on Calvary ! — 
Enter soldier^ suddenly 

1 come, but to a phantom conflict there; 



Ii6 THE SIN OF DAVID 

I leave behind the real battle here. 

\^Exit Lisle. 
\^After a paiise^ Ratcliffe slowly 
ejiters and puts out the lights 
one by 07ie, and goes outy leaving 
the stage ifi complete dark7iess. 
After a panse a female figitre is 
seen issuing from the door on the 
left, zvJio goes over to the zvindovo at 
tJie back, and, withdrawiftg slowly 
the ciirtai7i, tJie glimmer of dawn 
is seen. She staftds a moment 
gazing outward ; a single sigh of 
wind is Jieard. Enter Ratcliffe, 
wearily, from the door ofi the 
right. He is about to cross the 



THE SIN OF DAVID 117 

room when the woman stops him 
ivith finger on her lip and poijits 
to door of sleeping room. Rat- 
CLIFFE retires, bowing his head. 
As the ivoman crosses back to the 
door on the left, she is met by a 
nurse, who witJi wJiispers gives her 
an empty phial. The zvomaji goes 
out with this by the door on the 
right, the nurse remaining at the 
other door, and listening. She then 
starts and hurries inward. The 
woman 7'eturns with the phial and 
is met by the doctor, issuing froin 
door on left. He has a glass, and, 
holding the phial to the light, pours 



Ii8 THE SIN OF DAVID 

some of it out carefully, drop by 
glimme^'ing drop. Meanwhile the 
room is groiviitg gradually lighter 
and more light. The nurse nozv 
quickly emerges^ toucJmig the doctor 
and motioning within. She and 
the doctor retire within, the woman 
standing beside the door motionless. 
Reenter Ratcliffe hastily and 
stealthily ; he draws the woman ijtto 
the middle of the room and points 
to wi7idozu, while a noise of hoofs 
is heard approaching and ceases 
outside. A soldier noiv entei's 
hurriedly, but, about to speak, is 
motio7ied to silence by Ratcliffe 



THE SIN OF DAVID 119 

and the woman. Ratcliffe takes 
soldier down. 
Ratcliffe. Your news? But soft, in 

whisper. 
Soldier. Victory ! 
Pomfret relieved ! — Sir Hubert from hot 

fight 
Returning — well-nigh home — already. 
Listen. 

S^Far off is heard the sound of the 
Puritan hymn of victory. It grows 
louder and louder. There is a 
sound of co7nmotio7t zuithout, and 
enter Lisle, casting aside his 
armour as he comes^ followed by 
certain captains. 



I20 THE SIN OF DA VI D 

Lisle. How is it with the child ? 

\The womajt and Ratcliffe motion 
him to silence. 

Woman. Hush, sir, be still. 

The moment is approaching and the 

struggle. 
Lisle. Let me go in to him. Hold 

me not back. 

\He rushes to dooVy but is m,et by 
nurse, with fi^iger on lip. She 
stands before the door. 

Nurse. Hist ! do not now disturb him. 
Now is come 
The moment when he wakes or sleeps for 
ever. 



THE SIN OF DA VI D 121 

[Lisle signs to officers to withdraw, 
which they do in silence with bowed 
heads, and stealtJiily folloived by 
Ratcliffe. Nurse a7id the ivonian 
retire within, silently. Lisle, left 
alone, goes to windozv at back, and, 
holding vp his hands, causes the 
chanting of the soldiers, which has 
come nearer and nearer, to subside and 
cease. He comes down to the door 
and stands by it, breathing heavily. 

Lisle. God ! God ! 
Reenter doctor, who stands with bowed 

head at door, unnoticed at first by Lisle, 

who at Icfigth sees him 

The child is dead ! 



122 THE SIN OF DA VI D 

Doctor. The child is dead. 

\Exit back into room. 
Lisle. The sin of David mine, and mine 
the doom ! 

Would I had found the death I sought with 
passion, 

There in the storm of swords round Pomfret 
hall! 

Yet she — 'tis she whom now I must re- 
member ; 

She is alone with him and makes no cry. 

No ! she is very silent : most she needs 

My arm supporting, and upholding words. 

With her must I abide, lift, and sustain 
her. 

Ente7' Miriam. SJie stands alo7ie by the door 



THE SIN OF DAVID 123 

Miriam. What have I done, that God 

hath taken my child ? 
Lisle. ^^Hesitatingly and tenderly r\ How 

should thy deed bereave him of his 

breath } 
Miriam. \_Slowly recognising Lisle.] 

And thou ! thou wast his father, wast 

thou not } 
Lisle. And am thy husband upon 

whom to lean. 
Miriam. How have I sinned.? I do 

not understand. 
Lisle. O, Miriam — 
Miriam. Wherefore was he dangled bright 
Before my eyes a moment — then with- 
drawn } 



124 THE SIN OF DAVID 



He had just learned to run alone; and I 



Had taught him a few words — and he is 



gone. 
Lisle. How can I help you but a little, 

tell me .'' 
Miriam. The causeless theft! I say it 
were relief 
To feel that here I paid for some far 

sin. 
Sooner heaven's ire than heaven's indiffer- 
ence ! 
O, Hubert, yes — on me this doom has 
fallen. 
Lisle. On thee ! Why thee } 
Miriam. I rushed into thy arms 

In headlong passion and in frenzied blood. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 125 

And recked not of my husband, nor of 
law. 

This is my punishment! 

Lisle. Why charge thyself ? 

Shall we accuse us of the frozen bird, 

Plead guilty to the fallen buds of spring? 
Miriam. That bud was mine; and I 
have cankered it : 

And though my boy came from me with- 
out spot. 

And though his body from the scythe of 
Death 

Lieth as sweet as mown grass in the even. 

Yet on his soul were deep transmitted 
stains, 

And telltale scars, to spirits visible. 



126 THE SIN OF DAVID 

Lisle. Peace ! 

Miriam. I am held unworthy, as 

who should say — 
" She is unclean : ah, trust her not with 

babes." 
Sir, I was no fit mother for your child. 
Lisle. Miriam ! 

Miriam. A mother } No ! not 

even a nurse. 
I had known too much to dare undress 

thy babe. 
Where lived I ere I came into your 

service } 
Had you made close enquiry — you had 

straight 
Discharged me. 



THE SIN OF DAVID \2.*j 

Lisle. Wife ! 

Miriam. Yet there where he is gone, 

There's none so pure could tend on him 

as I, 
So brood above his opening eyes at dawn. 
When was I wanting found ? When, for 

one instant? 
When was I caught a sentinel asleep ? 
What flash of absence, lightning of repose, 
Is urged against me ? Why, I did behold 
And hear the coming hours approach like 

foes, 
The night a thief, the stars with poised 

spears, 
The sun Hke an incendiary rushed. 
Lisle. Beloved ! 



128 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Miriam. Yet that madness all outweighs ; 
In blind blood have I sinned, and he is 

struck. 
And you ! I have made you suffer ! 

You'll not speak. 
Yet the gripped hand, the soldier-silence 

tell. 
Mercy, mercy, my lord ! 

\_SJLe casts Jierself at his feet. 

Lisle. In mercy rise ! 

Cling not about my feet ! Loose you my 

knees ! 
I will not see you suffer or abased ! 
Shudder away from me ! Mine was the sin. 
I, I alone have brought this vengeance 

down. 



THE SIN OF DA VID 129 

Miriam. Ah ! 

Lisle. He that zvas your husband — 

Miriam. What of him .? 

Lisle. Fell in the wild assault of 
Bolingbroke. 

Miriam. Yes, yes! 

Lisle. Yet died he by no accident. 

Miriam. Hubert, this is all dark ! 

Lisle. Whoe'er should lead 

That desperate onslaught, he must surely die. 
I sent your husband. 

Miriam. Knowing this t 

Lisle. Because 

I knew it. I'll not spare myself ; I'll bare 
This traitor heart unto your eyes at last. 

I am no common murderer, Miriam. 

I 



I30 THE SIN OF DAVID 

I slew not in the open, nor in haste, 

Nor wracked with jealousy : I trapped 

him to it, 
Beguiled him with some common con- 
ference. 
Then wrote a letter marking him for 

death. 
And watched him ride, dying, into the 
night. 
Miriam. Therefore wast thou so cold, 
and could'st not kiss me. 
Away! 

Lisle. He stood between us. 
Miriam. Touch me not! 

Lisle. The path to you across his body 
lay. 



THE SIN OF DA VI D 131 

Miriam. Blood is upon you ! 

Lisle. Yet — yet ! 

Miriam. Not his blood, 

murderer! 

Lisle. And if murderer I be, 

Then for thy sake am I a murderer. 
Miriam. No ! not of him. 
Lisle. Of whom then t 

Miriam. Of my child. 

Lisle. That which I did, I did with 
reeling sense ! 

1 see the moon still on thy tumbled hair, 
That smile that made a mist of the great 

world. 
Miriam. O will you dare to make me 
your accomplice 1 



132 THE SIN OF DA VJD 

Twas I that set you on, I beckoned 
you ? 
Lisle. No ! but thy moonlit beauty mad- 
dened me. 
Miriam. Ah ! will you speak of beauty 
at this moment.^ 
This beauty ! and my boy so close and cold, 
I sicken through all my body. Then these 

eyes 
That still shine, and these lips that dare to 

speak, 
This bosom, very snow from hills of Hell, 
This flesh which still I wear, whispered 



you on } 



This body was the bait then and the 
lure 



THE SIN OF DAVID 133 

That woo'd you to that murder — and, my 

God, 
This — this conceived my darling ! Dead 

is he ? 
When was he ever otherwise than dead ? 
As soon as quickened, sentenced, judged 

already. 
Long, long ere he was born. 

Lisle. I, I alone 

Am stained. 

Miriam. \l7t frenzy P\ I'll mar this body 

— loose your hold. 
Grasp not my wrists — this poison-tree I'll 

cleave. 
Lisle. On me thy fury! Me! Here is 

thy aim! 



134 THE SIN OF DA VI D 

I only have sinned ! 

Miriam. [^With gradual calin.'\ Yet this 
did lure thee on, 

Now on the wild night-festival of sense 

The spirit morning dawneth — or is't per- 
haps 

Merely the drunkard's morning penitence — 

A misery matutinal ? All our marriage 

Had from the first this taint on it. No 
more 

We'll meet, nor ever touch hands, nor for 
a moment 

Glance in each other's eyes, for here I see 

God's finger fallen. 

\_With a certain weary sweetness. '\ Hubert 
— it is past, 



THE SIN OF DAVID 135 

My wrath with thee — but let us fly each 

other. 
Between, an angel stands with flaming 

sword, 
And at his feet the body of our babe. 
Quickly ! Apart ! Let water roll between us ! 
Away, like those first parents out of Eden ! 
Fiery behind us gates of Paradise ! 

Lisle. Yet was her hand in his for all 
the wrath. 
Still, still you love me ? Tell me this at 
least .' 
Miriam. Yes ! but our love is as a thing 

accursed. 
Lisle. Woman, I grope to find you, but 
I cannot. 



136 THE SIN OF DAVID 

O, is there no way to you, and no path, 
No winding path ? 

Miriam. No way for thee to me. 

Lisle. Dear, have I lost you utterly } 

Miriam. For ever! 

Lisle. God, can thy sea divide as does 
this sea, 
O God, what is Thy severing grave to 

this } 
\_A pause ; then, approaching her tvistfully.'] 
The child did you resemble in his smile, 
Yet me about the brow a little. 

Miriam. Hush ! 

Lisle. Leave me not utter darkness, 
give me some 
Gleam of a far-off meeting ere v/e die, 



THE SIN OF DA VI D 137 

Somewhere at last, at last in a strange 
land, 

Or shingle at the ending of the world ! 
Miriam. I am utterly a-cold and without 
hope. 

I would creep in beside the dead for 
warmth. 
Lisle. Being so cold, love, whither will 

you wander } 
Miriam. Away! To live with all dumb 
things that yearn. 

I'll nest with thee, thou mother bird re- 
turned, 

I feel thy dreadful circlings in my blood. 

I'll be the friend of the robbed lioness; 

Above me, 



138 THE SIN OF DAVID 

To the unhindered desert moon ! 

I am stone to human Hfe henceforth 
Yet, if I feel, I feel we two must part. 

Lisle. \_AfUr a sU'ugglc.'\ Come, then. 

Good-by. Give me your hand once. 
Miriam. {Turning ajtd seei7ig him.'] Ah! 
Why did you turn his eyes upon me 
then .? 

1 cannot go a moment. 

Lisle. \Coniing close to her.] Why at 

all.? 
Miriam, it seems that now for the first 

time 
We two are joined together, man and wife. 
l^She makes to go.] No, listen! Then go 

from me if you will. 



THE SIN OF DAVID 139 

Our former marriage, though by holy bell 
And melody of lifted voices blest, 
Was yet in madness of the blood con- 
ceived, 
And born of murder: therefore is the 

child 
Withdrawn, that we might feel the sting 

of flesh 
Corruptible ; yet he in that withdrawal, 
F'olded upon the bosom of the Father, 
Hath joined us in a marriage everlasting. 
\_She raises her head.'] Marriage at last 

of spirit, not of sense, 
Whose ritual is memory and repentance. 
Whose sacrament this deep and mutual 
wound. 



I40 THE SIN OF DA VID 

Whose covenant the all that might have 

been. 
\^SolemnIy.'\ And to this troth majestic 

shadows throng, 
And stand about us in dumb sympathy. 
In presence of these silent witnesses, 
And one perchance that carrieth now a babe, 
I take in mine thy hand and call thee 

wife — 
Wife, wife, till the grave-shattering trumpet ! 
Miriam. Yet 

I want the little hands and feet of him. 
Lisle. Dear, in a deeper union are we 

bound 
Than by the earthly touch of him, or 

voice 



THE SIN OF DA VID 141 

Human, or little laughters in the sun. 

We by bereavement henceforth are be- 
trothed, 

Folded by aspirations unfulfilled, 

And clasped by irrecoverable dreams : 

\_She falls with a cry on his hearty 
where he holds her fast. '\ 

Last, by one hope more deep than cer- 
tainty, 

That though the child shall not return to 
us, 

Yet shall we two together go to him. 
Miriam. \^Slowly taking his hand to lead 
him.'] Will you come in with me and 
look at him } 

\Exeunt slowly, with bowed heads. 



